just tell me one little thing
by sanskrits
Summary: — tell me, honey, what's going on in that head of yours? / draco x harry


**written for tgs '12 days of christmas'**

 **prompts:**

 **2.** _ **two turtle doves:**_ **write about your OTP during christmastime**

 **points: 5**

 **word count: 1029**

 **school, house: hogwarts, slytherin**

 **a/n: i had to, sorry, i just can't resist my inner drarry mistletoe lover ahh i'm sorry i'm sorry**

. . .

Harry can't quite figure out the blond figure in the corner of his eye.

He tries his best to focus — Draco Malfoy certainly is focusing on his paper a little too much — but it's mysterious.

Most everyone had returned for eighth year at Hogwarts after the war, but Draco...he hadn't even made to taunt Harry _once_. And maybe he'd saved Draco's life but Draco had saved Harry's — and, well, didn't that make them even?

He doesn't really know, honestly. And he doesn't even know why he's so mystified by Draco Malfoy. He's just grown up, maybe.

Perhaps growing up comes with an extra dose of brooding and pallor?

"Mr. Potter," chimes the new Transfiguration teacher, snapping him out of his reverie. "What is so interesting about the ceiling that you are focusing on that rather than my class?"

"Ahh, sorry, Professor…"

. . .

Harry resolves to solve the mystery, then.

It's October, after all. Draco's probably going to need a friend — who wants to be alone on Christmas in a few months? Or Halloween, or Thanksgiving?

So he slides into the empty seat next to him on the Slytherin table.

"Potter?" Malfoy asks. "What are you doing here?"

He hasn't realized he's taken to calling Malfoy _Draco_ in his head. Harry is surprised to find he doesn't really mind.

"Eating," replies Harry cheekily. "The Gryffindor table is running out of good food, y'know, and Ron and Hermione are quite mushy around Christmas-time —"

Draco raises a hand to stop him talking. "I really don't want to know...just don't talk to me and eat your food and we don't have to do anything else, okay?"

"What if I want to talk to you?" Harry asks him. Draco stops short.

"What — Potter, what in Merlin's name are you on about?"

"I saved your life. You saved mine. We're even. Blank slate. We should start over," says Harry matter-of-factly.

Draco shakes his head in endearment. "Of course you'd say that, Potter —"

"— Harry. Call me Harry."  
"Well, then, _Harry,_ " says Draco somewhat bitterly, "there's too much history between us to just start over."

"Nonsense. We start over," Harry refutes, sticking out his hand to Draco, "like this."

Draco narrows his eyes at Harry, tilting his head and looking for something in Harry's face. Finally, he takes the proffered hand, saying, "Then you'll have to call me Draco." Harry notes that there's a slight smile, small but bright, playing on the corners of his lips. Harry likes it. It makes him look different, somehow. Beautiful, a little bit like an angel with dark robes and a Mark on his arm.

The thought doesn't repulse or disturb him. It doesn't bother him, strangely enough.

Is Harry attracted to his former enemy-turned acquaintance/tentative friend?

This certainly complicates things.

. . .

Ron and Hermione are a little hesitant about Draco at first. But he doesn't try to kill them, and they don't try to kill him, so eventually they warm up to each other.

None of them go home for Christmas — Hermione has nowhere to go and Ron wants to stay at Hogwarts with Hermione and Harry is really not up for going to the Burrow for Christmas, because _Hogwarts is back_ and he's going to revel in that for as long as he can.

Draco also stays, probably also since he doesn't want to go back to Malfoy Manor, now run by Narcissa since Lucius was imprisoned.

Ginny and Luna and Neville are staying, too. He and Ginny had split up happily — Ginny'd been mooning over Luna and Harry had to break himself up with her to encourage her.

Draco forms slight friendships with them, too. It's kind of a peaceful, happy gang of them — five Gryffindors and a Slytherin.

Harry hadn't ever thought it would happen. But it did, and now his mounting feelings for Draco are getting a little bit out of hand. Because every time Draco runs his hair through his hands, Harry wishes it was _him_ carding his hands through that blond hair and every time Draco laughs Harry wishes it was _him_ that Draco was laughing at.

"Ron, what the hell do I do?" Harry confides his predicament to his best friend one day.

Ron rolls his eyes. "I've always known you've been pining over Draco. You can't be more obvious, and this is coming from me."

"So — what do I do?" reiterates Harry.

"What I did. You give him the best snog of his life."

"I'm telling that to Hermione."  
So Christmas rolls around and Harry is very opportunistic at this point, because _oh look!_ There's mistletoe here, there, and everywhere.

He takes his chance when he and Draco are aimlessly strolling through the halls after not-so-subtle winks from Ron and Hermione and the _coincidental_ absence of Ginny and Luna and then the confused Neville who Hermione drags away.

The moment they're alone, Harry walks deliberately to a spot of mistletoe, pretending that he doesn't know where he's going.

(He does.)

When his legs stick to the ground, he lets out an "Oh, no."

Draco is also stuck right next to him, blushing profusely, and muttering, "Of bloody course...I get stuck under mistletoe…with the bloody straight Chosen One…"

"You're calling me straight?" Harry asks.

"What?"

"You need to learn to mutter less loudly," points out Harry.

"That's right, I do," concedes Draco. "So…" he gesticulates upward to the mistletoe. "What do we do?"

"Well, we snog, of course," says Harry. "I mean, if you don't want to we can make it quick, but I just thought you should know that I don't want it to be quick at all and that I am definitely not the 'bloody straight Chosen One…'"

"Just tell me one little thing, Potter," Draco tells him after a moment, probably recovering from the shock of the confession.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" asks Harry, seeing the look on his face.

"Why didn't you just _tell me,_ you idiot?" he laughs.

Harry doesn't deign to answer. Instead he leans in for the kiss they're both looking for.

(It's definitely not a quick one.)


End file.
